Old Time's Sake
by Grav
Summary: He starts to notice almost immediately.


**AN**: Um...so this happened!

**Spoilers**: Revelations

**Disclaimer**: Not mine at all! And the wonderful creature is from penknife's Time Zones, including the comments (which, if I do say so myself, are funny, particularly dbalthasar's). And then I had a conversation with nandamai last night that is directly responsible for a lot of this.

**Rating**: Teen

**Character/Pairings**: Declan MacRae, James Watson, implied James/Declan, Yellow Slime Mold

**Summary**: He starts to notice almost immediately. 

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><p><strong>Old Time's Sake<strong>

_He starts to notice almost immediately._

"_Physarum polycephalum_," James says, fastening down the lid of the portable aquarium with some degree of finality.

Declan is pretty sure he's just making that up, but it's not like he's worked at the Sanctuary long enough to say things like that out loud, so instead he nods and pulls off his gloves, tucking them into a pocket and checking to make sure all his fingers are still really there. There had been a vaguely acid feel to the creature, and its yellow colour bespoke all manner of potential biohazards.

"Oh, come on, Uncle James!" Ashley says, apparently harbouring no such qualms. "You've barely even looked at it."

"I have been doing this a while, my dear," he says in reply. Declan hasn't been here long, true, but he's been here long enough to know that infuriates her. He's positive that James knows it too, because his boss smirks like he's won a point at something.

"Okay, but you have to give it a better name, or everyone will just call it Squishy," Ashley points out.

"They most certainly will not," James protests.

It takes approximately ten minutes for the lab technicians to reach the same conclusion as Ashely, and by the time they all retire to the drawing room, James is decidedly put out about the whole thing.

"I'll never understand why people are so reluctant to accept the simplicity of Linnaean Classification," he says as Magnus pours a round of brandies (and a soda, of course).

"It's all right, James," Helen says. "I'm sure it knows you care."

There is a loud thump from outside the door, and when Ashley goes into the hallway to investigate, all the rest of them hear is peal after peal of laughter. Declan is the first to reach her.

"How in the world," he begins, but then thinks the better of it. Instead he reaches down and wrestles one of James's favourite shoes out of the yellow slime. It's smoking a bit around the edges and rather scuffed. Whether its mate is safe upstairs in James's wardrobe or already digested is impossible to tell.

Ashley, who has apparently decided she likes him, shoots him a dazzling smile as they head back in to the drawing room where Magnus and James are waiting for them, Declan holding the shoe out in front of him in lieu of an actual explanation.

"Oh, dammit," James says, pretending great effrontery, but the next time Declan sees the file on the yellow slime mold creature, its name has been amended to _Physarum polycephalum curiousum_.

_Things happen so quickly that it's easy to overlook, if he wanted to, and in a way he almost does. It might be easier, but he's never been one to let himself pretend._

"Watch your step." James says warningly as Declan comes into the office carrying a large container he can't quite see over the top of.

There's a loud squelching sound, which Declan thinks is odd because both of his feet are definitely on solid hardwood floorboards. He shifts the container as best he can, trying to get a glance down at his feet and, sure enough, the yellow slime mold abnormal is to his left and not directly underfoot.

"You've just startled it, that's all," James says, going back to his files with a fond glance in their general direction, and Declan realizes that not only is he not sure which of them James is looking at, he's also not sure which of them is being spoken to.

"Did you want me to fetch it back down to its habitat?" Declan asks, sizing the creature up and wondering how on earth it escaped this time.

"It's fine for now, I think, don't you?" James replies absently without looking up. Declan watches as the creature sets in on top of last year's accounting ledgers and begins happily digesting them, or whatever it does when makes things disappear like that.

"You're probably right," Declan says, once again grateful that he'd insisted on computer back-ups for all edible paperwork. He can only hope the creature never takes a liking to integrated circuitry.

_It's little things, a shoe dug out of the bottom of the wardrobe, the handle of a seldom used cane taken from behind the bedroom door, the fringe off the bottom of the bedskirt burned away._

Declan finds it in the middle of the hallway, pooled out in a wider circle than he'd thought it could manage and rippling slowly, though without any particular intent. He sniffs, and when he determines that it's not actually burning a hole through anything at the moment, he jumps over it and continues down the corridor.

He knocks on James's office door, perfunctionally for the most part as they end most evenings this way, or perhaps begin them, but there's nothing wrong with a show of good manners and it's not always a good idea to surprise people in their offices at the Sanctuary, even at this time of night. James is sitting in a chair by the fire, and waves him towards the other, pouring a finger of whiskey into a glass and passing it to him as soon as he's seated.

"Did you see our yellow friend on your way in?" James says, looking around as though he expects to see the slime mold on the floor, nibbling on the rug.

"It's in the corridor," Declan says. "It's acting a bit strange. Do you think it might be sick?"

"I think it might be a little intoxicated," James admits with a sheepish grin.

"Intoxicated." Declan knows better than to make that a question.

"I was in the cellar and it followed me down the stairs," James says, gold rings glinting against the amber drink and the crystal cup. "It seemed only polite to share after that, but it didn't think much of the liquid."

"Then why is it drunk?"

"It was rather fond of the casks," James says. "I only had time for a brief experiment, but it appeared to prefer the sherry mahogany over anything else, though it did also seem to like the brandy oak."

The last time there had been experimentation done on the creature it had involved a bet, a trip to a local thrift store for as many old shoes as they could find, and an afternoon spent watching Ashley Magnus try to convince it that flip flops were much more appetizing than loafers, with only mediocre success.

"Are we going to have to reinforce the cellar with something less appetizing?" Declan is already envisioning it; James is usually all right with letting their residents carry on as their natures determine, but Declan has no doubts that he'll battle to the death over the safety of the port.

"We may have to, yes," James says, waving a hand in the direction of his desk. "I've made some sketches."

"I'll put in a purchase order tomorrow," Declan says, raising his glass to his lips.

From the hallway comes the unmistakable sound of a belch.

_It's exactly the kind of thing that would have driven James mad, a mystery with no logical solution, but Declan can see the pattern easily enough, and so he lets it go._

After Declan recaptures the creature for the fourth time in a single week, he decides that it might be time for a talk. They were never able to determine how much the slime mold understands about everyday conversation, but James was positive that it could at least read emotions, and Declan has no shortage of those right now, however much he chooses to button them down in front of the other residents and staff.

"I don't know if he told you he was leaving," Declan says to it through the glass, once it's been safely returned to its habitat. "He didn't really tell a lot of people. I think he didn't want to say good-bye."

The creature swishes back and forth in the tank, listing as though it were at sea. Declan half wonders if it got into the whiskey casks again, but there hadn't been anything suspicious in the cellar when he'd checked earlier. Maybe the poor thing just felt adrift. There was plenty of that going around, in any case.

"He knew he wasn't coming back," Declan continues. "But he went anyway. Because he's a bloody idiot when it comes to things like that. And now we're stuck here without him."

The creature plasters itself up against the side of the tank closest to Declan, and he reaches out to press his hand against the glass. He can't feel anything, but he wasn't really expecting to. There's no doubt that the creature's movements were deliberate though. It's possible that he's getting through to it.

"I found plans, you know, in his desk when I was cleaning it," he says. "For a force field. It was for you, to keep you down here and out of our hair upstairs."

He smiles, because even though he has firsthand knowledge of James's sentimental streak, it was always reassuring to see it applied to beings other than himself.

"I know why he didn't build it," he says. "And I won't either. At least, not so long as you stay out of the security systems, and try not to undermine too much of the heirloom furniture."

The abnormal flattens itself back out on the floor of its habitat, and Declan can only take that as a sign that it's struck a bargain with him. If nothing else, it will make life exciting, never knowing where it will turn up. And it's not like it's got much in the way of camouflage.

_Just after they have their conversation, things start to disappear. Declan understands. He has a collection of his own, after all._

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><p><strong>finis<strong>

Gravity_Not_Included, June 13, 2011**  
><strong>


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